Welcome,
Dear dreamer.
Tonight's somatic healing yoga nidra practice is an invitation to gently settle the nervous system.
Support vagus nerve regulation.
And guide the body toward deep,
Restorative sleep.
Through breath.
Stillness,
And embodied awareness.
Beneath my voice,
Delta binaural beats will gradually encourage the mind toward slower rhythms.
Creating a gentle foundation.
As you drift deeper.
And deeper.
Interest.
There is a story called The Inn at the Mountain Pass.
High in the mountains,
Where a narrow road wound between two distant kingdoms.
There stood an old inn.
For many years,
Travelers stopped there to rest before crossing the pass.
The innkeeper welcomed merchants with silk and spices.
He welcomed monks carrying prayer beads.
He welcomed musicians,
Scholars,
And families making their way toward new homes.
But over time,
He became particular about whom he allowed through the door.
When a traveler arrived smiling.
He welcomed them warmly.
When someone arrived carrying good news,
He poured tea and pulled a chair close to the fire.
But when visitors came burdened by grief,
Anger,
Fear,
Or trouble,
The innkeeper turned them away.
I have worked hard to make this place a peaceful place,
" he would say.
Take your troubles somewhere else.
Years past.
The inn became beautiful and quiet.
Flowers grew beneath the windows.
Lanterns glowed along the walls.
And the innkeeper took pride in the calm he had created.
Then,
One winter,
A great storm descended upon the mountain.
Snow buried the road.
The wind howled through the pass.
For days,
No travelers came.
The firewood began to run low.
The shelves emptied.
And when the innkeeper fell ill with fever,
He discovered that his medicine chest was bare.
Late one evening,
Someone knocked at the door.
The innkeeper opened it.
Outside stood an old woman he had turned away months before because she had arrived weeping.
Across her back was a bundle of firewood.
I heard the storm had trapped you here,
" she said.
Behind her stood a merchant the innkeeper had once rejected for arriving furious after being robbed on the road.
He carried sacks of rice and dried fruit.
Then came a frightened young traveler,
Whom the innkeeper had refused because his fear had made other guests uneasy.
The young man knew the mountain well.
A second storm is coming,
He warned.
We must reinforce the roof before morning.
And finally,
Through the snow came a healer.
The innkeeper remembered her too.
She had once arrived exhausted and grieving the death of her husband.
He had told her that sorrow did not belong beneath his roof.
Now she carried the medicine that would break his fever.
One by one,
The travelers entered.
They placed wood upon the fire.
They prepared food.
They repaired the roof.
The healer sat beside the innkeeper through the night.
And as he lay listening to their voices filling the rooms,
He had guarded so carefully,
The innkeeper began to understand.
Each person he had rejected had arrived carrying something he could not see.
Their grief had not made them empty.
Their fear had not made them weak.
Their anger had not made them without value.
What appeared at his door as trouble had also been carrying medicine.
Knowledge.
Warmth.
And nourishment.
By spring,
The mountain road opened again.
The innkeeper hung a new sign beside the door.
It read,
All travelers are welcome here.
And from that day forward.
When sorrow entered,
He gave it a chair.
When anger arrived,
He listened before judging it.
When fear appeared trembling at the threshold,
He offered it warmth.
He no longer assumed that an uncomfortable guest had come only to disturb his peace.
For he had learned that some visitors arrive carrying gifts hidden beneath their heavy cloaks.
And sometimes,
The very thing we are most eager to turn away has come bearing exactly what the soul needs next.
Tonight,
Let that wisdom settle gently within you.
Because perhaps your inner world is not so different from that little inn at the mountain pass.
Thoughts arrive.
Feelings knock at the door.
Joy comes,
Carrying sunlight.
And sometimes fear arrives trembling.
Sometimes anger enters loudly.
Sometimes grief appears in the middle of the night.
Carrying something heavy beneath its cloak.
And naturally,
We may wish to welcome one and turn away another.
We may believe that peace means keeping the difficult visitors outside.
But perhaps peace is something deeper.
Perhaps peace is the spaciousness that can open the door without becoming the visitor.
The awareness that can say.
You may be here.
I will listen.
You do not need to leave before I can rest.
Because an emotion does not become permanent simply because we allow ourselves to feel it.
Fear can enter without becoming your home.
Sadness can sit beside you.
Without becoming who you are.
Anger can speak.
Without being given the keys to the inn.
Every visitor arrives.
Every visitor changes.
And eventually,
Every visitor moves on.
Sometimes what first appears as discomfort may even carry something we need.
Grief may reveal the depth of our love.
Fear may show us where tenderness needs reassurance.
Anger may illuminate a boundary we have forgotten to honor.
Loneliness may quietly point toward our longing for connection.
We do not need to search for a lesson in every feeling tonight.
We only need to stop fighting the knock at the door.
To become a little more spacious.
A little more welcoming.
A little more willing to meet ourselves exactly as we are.
So now,
Allow the body to become more comfortable.
Feel the surface beneath you receive your weight.
Let the back of the head rest.
Let the shoulders loosen.
Let the muscles around the eyes soften.
Let the hands become heavy.
And allow the belly to release in its own time.
Nothing needs to be turned away tonight.
Nothing needs to be solved before you sleep.
And when you're ready,
Place one hand gently over your heart.
And one hand over your belly.
Feel the warmth beneath your palms.
The hearts beneath one hand.
The breath moving beneath the other.
Imagine for a moment that this body is the in.
And your awareness is the warm light glowing within it.
Steady.
Spacious.
Welcoming.
Take a slow breath in through the nose.
And exhale gently through the mouth.
Again,
Breathing in slowly.
And letting the exhale become a little longer.
One more time.
A soft,
Effortless inhale.
And a long,
Gentle breath out.
Now,
Allow the breath to move naturally through the nose.
No need to breathe perfectly.
No need to control anything.
Simply feel the rise beneath your hands.
And the fall.
Breathing in,
Making room.
Breathing out,
Softening resistance Again,
Breathing in.
Allowing this moment to be exactly as it is Breathing out,
Letting the body settle more deeply into support.
Let each longer exhale become a quiet signal to the vagus nerve.
A message moving gently through the body.
You are safe here.
You do not need to guard the door.
You are allowed to rest.
And if a thought appears,
No need to push it away.
If a feeling appears.
Let it have a little space.
No need to follow them.
No need to understand them.
No need to ask how long it intends to stay.
Simply notice.
Another traveler.
Another visitor passing through.
Breathing in,
Opening the door.
And breathing out.
Remaining spacious.
Breathing in.
Welcoming what is here.
And breathing out.
Remembering that you are larger than anything that passes through you.
You are not the traveler.
You are the space that receives the traveler.
Not the passing weather.
But the vast sky through which it moves.
Not any single feeling.
But the awareness spacious enough to hold them all.
And now,
Before we go any deeper,
Quietly set your sankalpa.
Your heart-centered intention for this practice.
You might repeat silently.
I welcome myself exactly as I am.
I rest in spacious awareness.
Sleep comes gently and easily.
Again,
I welcome myself exactly as I am.
I rest in spacious awareness.
Sleep comes gently and easily.
One final time.
Softly within.
I welcome myself exactly as I am.
I rest in spacious awareness.
Sleep comes gently and easily.
Let those words settle gently within you.
Like a lantern glowing.
Beside an open door.
Like warmth waiting beside the fire.
Like an inn beneath the mountains where every traveler may enter.
Rest for a while.
And when the time comes,
Continue on their way.
In a few moments,
We will begin moving through the body with awareness.
Allowing each part of you to be noticed,
Softened,
And released.
So take one more slow breath in.
And a long gentle breath out.
Let your hands rest.
Wherever they feel most natural.
And now,
We begin.
This is a poem by Rumi called The Guesthouse.
This being human is a guesthouse.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy.
A depression.
A meanness.
Some momentary awareness comes.
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all.
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture.
Still,
Treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought.
The shame.
And the malice.
Meet them at the door laughing,
And invite them in.
And be grateful for whoever comes.
Because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
Let the message of Rumi's poem settle deeply within you.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Now,
Take two gentle sips of air in through your nose Exhale slowly through an open mouth.
Allowing your jaw to soften and your entire body to release.
Once more,
Inhale twice through the nose.
And let go with a deep,
Effortless sigh.
One last time.
Two sips in.
And exhale,
Feeling your body grow heavier.
Surrendering into the support beneath you.
Your nervous system begins to unwind.
Untangle like a tightly wound thread.
Unraveling into spaciousness.
Allow yourself to fully arrive here in this sacred moment of rest.
As your body settles,
Feel your breath return to its natural rhythm.
Like gentle waves rolling in and out.
Relax the muscles of your face.
Your jaw.
Your tongue.
Softening the tiny muscles behind your eyes.
The micro muscles around your forehead and scalp Let go of any lingering tension.
Imagine the two hemispheres of your brain.
The tired muscles.
Slowly unclenching.
Opening into ease.
Spaciousness.
Stillness.
And could you allow this relaxation to flow downward?
Feel it cascading through the entire body.
Melting through your shoulders.
Down your arms.
Into your hands.
Softening your abdomen.
Your pelvis your legs.
All the way to the soles of your feet.
The very tips of your toes.
Wrapped in warmth.
Cocooned in stillness.
You are momentarily untethered from the outside world.
Free to simply be here.
Resting in this sanctuary within.
Allowing the mind to dissolve into spacious awareness.
As if thoughts be gently embraced by the heart.
Letting go of thinking.
Planning,
Doing.
Opening instead to the experience of listening.
Sensing being.
Present.
Completely at peace.
Feeling the gentle ebb and flow of your breath as it carries you deeper into stillness.
Held,
Supported,
Nourished by this moment of profound rest.
Nothing to do.
Nowhere to be.
Simply here.
As you continue to relax.
Surrendering into this deep state of being.
Know that you are safe.
That you are enough.
That you are whole.
Rest here for as long as you need.
Embracing this sanctuary of stillness within.
Now it's time to set your sankalpa.
Your intention.
If you do not have a specific intention at this moment,
You may silently affirm I surrender completely.
Allowing my body and mind to rejuvenate in perfect harmony.
Whisper this intention three times in your mind and body.
Letting each repetition deepen its presence within you.
Let this resolve remain present throughout your practice.
Feel its resonance extending into each moment.
Like a gentle wave washing over your awareness.
Now,
A journey of awareness through the body begins.
Direct your attention to the tip of your tongue.
The surface of the tongue.
The roof of the mouth.
Direct your attention to the entire mouth.
The teeth and gums.
The inside of the right cheek.
The inside of the left cheek.
The space between the upper and lower lips.
The air moving in and out of the nostrils.
The tip of the nose.
The bridge of the nose.
Feeling both eyebrows touching.
The temples.
Direct your attention to both eyes together.
Growing heavier.
Gently relaxing.
Back into their sockets.
The sensation of relaxation deepens as the eyelids soften and the muscles surrounding the eyes Release completely Interact your attention to the center of your forehead.
The entire forehead.
Allowing awareness to seep into the scalp and hair.
The entire scalp and hair.
A sensation of warmth or tingling may emerge,
Spreading down from the crown of the head like a gentle wave of relaxation.
Focus attention on the entire right hemisphere of the brain.
The entire left hemisphere of the brain.
Both hemispheres together,
Simultaneously,
Uniting in a sense of spacious awareness.
The brainstem.
The root of the tongue.
The entire jaw.
The center of the throat.
The base of the throat,
Expanding with each effortless breath.
Bring attention to the heart center.
The right side of the chest.
The right shoulder.
The upper arm.
The elbow.
The forearm.
The rest.
The palm of the hand.
The back of the hand.
The thumb.
The first finger.
The second finger.
The third finger.
The small finger.
Returning back to the palm.
The rest.
The forearm.
Elbow,
Upper arm.
Shoulder.
Shoulder blade.
Red cage.
Waste.
Hip.
The whole thigh,
Be.
Lower leg.
Ankle.
Heal.
Sole of the foot.
Top of the foot.
The big toe.
A second toe.
The third toe.
The fourth toe.
A little toe.
The entire foot.
The whole leg.
The whole right side of the body together.
The whole right side of the body and the left hemisphere of the brain,
Sensing them together.
Urging breath,
Awareness,
And relaxation.
The whole right side and left hemisphere.
Bringing attention back to the center of the chest Feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat as it echoes through your being.
The left side of the chest.
The left shoulder.
Upper arm.
Elbow.
Forearm.
Rest.
Palm of the hand.
Back of the hand first finger.
Second finger.
Third finger.
Small finger.
Back to the palm.
Rest.
Forearm.
Elbow.
Upper arm.
Shoulder blade.
Prep cage.
Waste.
The whole thigh.
Knee.
Lower leg.
Ankle.
Heal.
Soul.
Top of the foot.
The big toe.
Second toe.
Third toe.
Fourth toe.
Little toe.
The whole foot.
The whole left leg.
The entire left side of the body.
The whole left side of the body and right hemisphere of the brain.
The whole left side of the body and right hemisphere of the brain.
Both simultaneously embracing the entire left side of the body and right hemisphere of the brain.
A sensation of unity,
Balance,
And effortless awareness emerges.
Now,
Welcoming both hemispheres of the brain the right and left sides of the body together.
Sensing the wholeness of your being merging into stillness and peace.
The entire body.
The whole body effortlessly at rest,
Embraced in a state of deep relaxation.
Feeling the breath.
The body breathing itself,
Steady,
Natural,
Soothing.
Guiding you deeper into serenity.
In your nostrils,
You may sense warmth as you exhale.
A coolness as you inhale.
Becoming aware of the breath.
Feeling the gentle rhythm of your breathing.
Noticing the ocean of air surrounding you.
Waves rolling in.
Waves rolling out.
Sinking deeper into relaxation.
Allowing your body to soften.
To settle.
To surrender into the stillness.
As you observe this effortless,
Natural breath,
Feel yourself becoming more and more present.
Begin to count down from 18 as you inhale.
Softly whispering the number 18.
As you exhale,
18.
On the next inhale,
17.
Exhale,
17.
Continue at your own gentle rhythm.
With each breath feeling the passage of air moving through you.
Cleansing,
Soothing.
Calming.
Whenever you are ready,
You can release the count.
Returning to the natural flow of your breath.
The next time you inhale,
Imagine your body becoming light.
Weightless,
Floating effortlessly.
Drifting upward,
Light and expansive.
Floating on the breath.
Like a feather lifted by the wind.
The next time you exhale,
Sense your body becoming heavy.
Sinking into the earth.
Grounded.
Feeling the weight of your body supported in your chest.
Embraced by the Earth beneath you.
The fullness of your body resting even more deeply.
With each exhale,
Surrendering further into comfort and ease.
On the inhale,
Once again embracing weightlessness.
With each breath floating,
Spacious.
Free as though held by an invisible force of calm and clarity.
You hover in this tranquil space.
Bring your awareness to the center of your forehead.
Allow a rotation of images to gently arise.
The feeling of bare feet against the earth.
The scent of flowers drifting in the air.
Their fragrance,
Infusing each inhale with serenity.
Golden sunlight filtering through the trees.
Casting dappled light upon your skin.
The soothing song of birds in the distance.
A melody of nature's harmony.
A vast horizon lined with mountains.
Their peaks whispering stories of timelessness.
The glow of the setting sun,
Painting the sky in hues of amber and violet.
The shimmer of ocean waves beneath moonlight.
The rhythm mirroring your breath.
The warmth of flickering flames in a fire.
Their glow offering quiet comforts.
A silent owl gliding through the night sky.
Wise and knowing.
The Milky Way stretching infinitely across space.
An expanse of wonder and mystery.
A deep sense of connection with all that is.
A boundless awareness.
Infinite and whole.
An embrace of all existence.
Resting in this profound interconnection with all things.
Feeling the pulse of life within and around you.
Allow yourself,
Welcome your Sankalpa.
Your intention.
Feeling it resonate within.
Or softly stating it in your mind.
Imagining yourself.
Floating amidst the constellations.
Bathed in celestial light.
The outline of your body traced by twinkling stars.
Forming the constellation of you.
Begin to sense physical form of your body.
The edges.
The volume,
The presence.
Feeling the volume of your being resting in your sacred cocoon.
Your sanctuary of stillness.
Noticing the breath moving through you effortlessly.
The gentle rhythm of life itself.
Taking a deep breath in.
And releasing fully.
Then two small sips of air through the nose.
And exhale completely.
Repeating once more,
Breathing in deeply.
And releasing.
One last time.
Softening into stillness.
Expanding into the moment allowing yourself to absorb the benefits of this practice.
The deep nourishment.
Of presence.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can meet yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open.
To whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open.
To whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can meet yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can meet yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all a wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart.
Exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can meet yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
The longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
And a sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
A doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can meet yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
Allow these words to find their way into your heart.
Let everything be welcome here.
The joy that arrives like morning light.
The sorrow that enters with the rain.
Longing.
The tenderness.
The sudden ache with no name.
You are spacious enough to hold them all.
A wide room.
An open window.
Curtains moving in the breeze.
A door left gently open to whatever comes.
You do not have to cling to what feels beautiful.
You do not have to turn away from what feels difficult.
Everything may enter.
Everything may rest a while.
Everything may leave.
When its season is complete.
You are the house,
Not the visitor.
You are the sky through which every weather passes.
You are the still water receiving rain.
Receiving sunlight.
Receiving falling leaves.
Without becoming any of them.
So welcome this moment.
Welcome the heart exactly as it is.
Welcome the places that laugh.
The places that tremble.
The place is still learning how to soften.
Perhaps even this feeling has brought you something.
Doorway.
A clearing.
A small lamp placed somewhere within.
You can mute yourself gently.
You can make room for every part of your being.
Nothing needs to be hurried away.
The door opens.
The guest arrives.
The heart makes space.
And beneath every arrival and every departure,
You remain.
Open.
Spacious.
The sacred host of everything that passes through.
